Eleanor’s gaze dropped to Micah, who was still staring at Desmond’s face.
“I am not suspending it because of an allegation.
I am suspending it because you omitted a material fact you were required to disclose.”
“I did not know they were mine.”
“You made certain you would never find out.”
That sentence stopped him.
Nora held up the cracker again.
“Want some?” she asked.
Desmond looked at her, and something in his expression cracked more deeply than his phone screen.
Eleanor asked an airport employee to direct us to a private family lounge.
I almost refused.
I had a flight to catch, three toddlers growing restless, and no desire to spend another minute inside the Frost family’s crisis.
Then Desmond said, “Maya, please.”
It was the first time I had heard him use that word with me.
I agreed to twenty minutes.
The lounge was quiet and windowless.
A row of gray chairs faced a low table.
Eleanor placed the red folder on the table, while I settled the children with crackers, cups of water, and a small cloth book from the stroller.
Desmond remained standing.
He looked uncomfortable near the children, as though he feared one wrong movement might expose how completely unprepared he was.
Micah solved the problem by walking over and touching the shiny buckle on Desmond’s shoe.
Desmond stared down.
“That one is Micah,” I said.
He swallowed.
“I know.”
“You heard his name two minutes ago.”
“I remember it.”
Eleanor sat across from me.
“I need to ask whether you are certain Desmond is their father.”
Desmond turned sharply.
“Mother.”
“She is entitled to ask,” I said.
“Yes.
I am certain.”
“Were you seeing anyone else?” he asked.
The cruelty of the question was almost familiar enough to make me numb.
Almost.
I looked at him until he lowered his eyes.
“No,” I said.
“I was busy believing you loved me.”
Eleanor’s expression hardened.
Desmond rubbed one hand over his mouth.
“I should not have asked that.”
“No.
You should have asked how the pregnancy went.
You should have asked whether they were healthy.
You should have asked whether I survived delivering three babies without the man who promised he would never leave.”
His face changed at the word survived.
“There were complications?”
“There were three premature babies and one exhausted mother.
You can work out the rest.”
For a moment, he looked as if he might sit.
Instead, he gripped the back of a chair.
Then he reached for the only tool he had always trusted.
“Whatever you need financially, I will provide it.”
I had expected that sentence from the moment his phone hit the floor.
